


Pages

by thenewnationalanthem (moxielovesshipping)



Series: Damn Near Platonic [9]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Books, Bookstores, Character Death, Crying, Depression, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss, M/M, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Sad, Self-Harm, Tearjerker, bridges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxielovesshipping/pseuds/thenewnationalanthem
Summary: "By the time you read this, I'll be dead."****FULL STORY IS THE NEXT TO LAST FIC IN THIS SERIES CALLED SMEARED PAGES AND RIPPED NOTES****





	1. Mark's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Double upload on Easter? I have no life. But! I wont be uploading any Septiplier tomorrow, so how about we all have a good cry? If you're triggered by suicide, loss, or self harm, do not read. Listen to Brother by Gerard Way for maximum sadness.

_Remember when we met in the bookstore? You came up to me, and asked me if i came here often. I'd seen you before, plenty of times, and you always looked so happy to be there. I told you i only come on my good days, and you told me you see me everyday. I laughed and asked you your name, and you told me Mark. Do you remember that? I do. I also remember telling you my real name. I never do that. The way "Sean" rolled off of your tongue made my heart flutter with happiness. You let me sit with you, and you ordered us both coffee with sugar. You laughed when i added more sugar. You said "Are you sure you need all that? You're sweet enough." I remember that, because it made me smile. I didn't smile often, Mark. I remember we talked for ages, about nothing at all. I remember you staring at my scars, when you didn't think i noticed. At first, i figured they'd repulse you. I never expected you to stay. I was hoping you'd leave that day, but i knew it was crush me if you did. I remember that night, i went home and cried myself to sleep. Because i knew no matter how many times i saw that gorgeous smile, heard that goofy laugh, felt those strong arms hug me goodbye and hello, i'd never feel different. I remember days after that, you'd meet with me at the bookstore, and you'd ask me the same question. You'd say "have i seen you here before?" And it never failed to make me laugh. I think the best memory i have, though, is making YOU laugh. Other people, i could never make them laugh. My parents, they scolded me, hated me because i was different, because i would hurt myself on purpose. I was hurting at one point, but after so much of something, you get numb. I was numb Mark, for so long, and i wanted to feel again. You made me feel, so much, TOO much, it was overwhelming. Then, seeing you smiling, laughing at jokes i'd make about books, Irish phrases I'd say, faces i'd make, it broke my heart. It broke my heart because i knew i'd pulled you in too deep. I made you do something i thought i could never do again. I made you love me. That's why I'm writing you this. ~~Because i love you, Mark~~. I care about you so much. You're so much more than just a pretty face in a bookstore, and i'm sorry we couldn't get to know each other better. I figured if i told you too much, you'd leave just like everyone else. I couldn't let you leave.  Not like this. Believe me when I say I'm sorry. I never wanted things to end like this, but all things end. Please don't make this be the end of your story. You have so many blank pages, and i was so happy to be in one chapter of your life._    
  
Mark's hands shook as his legs dangled over the edge of the silent bridge, tears falling onto the paper scrawled on by shaky handwriting. He inhaled, watching the cars below zoom by, oblivious to the absence of light in the world. He felt angry, he felt lost, he felt sad, he felt hurt. He could see the writing continued on the back, so he closed his eyes, breathed again, and flipped it over.  
  
  
_But all good novels, like good things, end somehow. Unfortunately, my ending isn't a good one. The bad sometimes outweighs the good, Markimoo,_  
  
Mark's breath hitched slightly at the nickname, tears falling faster down his face as he broke into a full on sob.  
  
_And this time, the bad won. There are so many things i wondered about you before i jumped. What happened to your parents? What made you move to L.A.? Were you married? Single? Gay? Straight? Where did you work? But, my own derailed thoughts pushed those aside. Telling me i wasn't good enough for you, that you were only being a good samaritan. No matter how many I love you's or you're amazing's you said to me...it never mattered. I'm sorry Mark, but i have to go. Please remember me, because i'll always remember you._  
  
_-Jack._  
  
  
The note ended there, coated in the tears Mark had cried a dozen times. He screamed against the rails, sobbing violently as he clutched the letter in his hands. After about an hour of crying, he got up, wiped his face, and walked back to his car. He sat there for a second, staring forward in deep thought. He thought back to the bookstore, and how he and Jack had met. All the things he said had been true, and Mark loved Jack to pieces. He slammed his head onto the steering wheel violently, sobbing again. Clips of Jack smiling and talking flashed through his head, his Irish infliction rang through his ears, his deep blue eyes locked in his mind forever. How he would never get to see them in person again. He lifted his head up, looking over at the book next to him. Jack had given it to him as a gift a few weeks ago, before he jumped off the bridge. He ran his thumb over the cover of the book, his tears falling once again. It was in the book he had found the note, finally getting around to opening it amidst his busy lifestyle. It was folded into the cover, behind the title of the book.  
  
  
**By The Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead.**    
  
  
Mark threw his head back with a sigh as he heard his phone ring. Wade. He had been out here crying for hours, and it was time to go home again. He gave one last look to the small memorial on the bridge. One last look into those crystal blue eyes, and he started his car. He knew he'd see him again, he comes here quite often.


	2. Jack's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Jack's POV to the events leading up to his suicide. TW for self harm and depreciation. If it's unclear, both Mark and Jack have feelings for each other, but they never got the chance to discuss it. Here we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't read if triggered by self harm.

Mark was an amazing guy, but Jack knew he couldn't have him forever. He met Mark at the bookstore, just a couple months ago on one of his good days. He always went to the bookstore on his good days. The brunette had come up to him one day, smiling brightly next to him as he searched the shelf for a new book to read.  
  
  
"Hey, do you come here often?" He said, beaming at the Irishman as if he were the center of the universe. Annaise had looked at him that way once. He turned to face the brunette, giving him a weak smile.  
  
  
"I only come on my good days." He said back, pulling a book off the shelf and smiling down at it. The man scoffed, his almond shaped eyes turning into half moons as his grin spread.  
  
"I see you everyday though." The man said, fiddling with the cover of his own book.  
  
  
"Oh? And what's yer name, oh mysterious stalker o' mine?" Jack said, gripping his book tightly in his hands to hide the title. He wouldn't scare him away, not now.  
  
"It's Mark, but you can call me Mark." Mark replied, causing Jack to laugh quietly.  
  
  
"My name is Sean." He said, startled at his immediate confession of his given name.  
  
"Sean, what a cute name." Mark said, smiling at him. "Would you wanna maybe come sit with me and have coffee?" He finished, rubbing his neck nervously.  
  
  
Jack quirked his eyebrows, blushing slightly at the compliment and offer. _He hasn't seen your scars Sean. He doesn't know how worthless you really are._ "Um, sure. I have everything i want." He said, watching as Mark's brilliant brown eyes sparkled. They took a seat in the cafe and talked for hours. Jack noticed Mark looking slightly at his scars, but he didn't say a thing about them. When their coffee was ready, Mark brought it back and sat them down, watching as Jack got up and got more sugar.  
  
  
"You sure you need all that? You're already pretty sweet." Mark said, causing Jack to blush and smile lightly.  
  
  
"Allows me t'keep up wit' fast talkers such as yerself." Jack said, leaning back in his chair. Mark responded with a deep chuckle, and Jack found himself falling too deep too fast. _Remember what happened with Annaise_ , his brain reminded him, _nobody will love you. She was right, you're not enough._

That night, Jack went home and cried to himself in bed. He couldn't get that deep voice, those warm eyes, and those strong muscles out of his mind. He forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom, grabbing a familiar blade and running bath water. Once the tub was full, he removed his clothes, setting himself slowly into the tub. He relaxed his arm against the cool porcelain, and made small cuts with his free hand until the water was red. He fell asleep in the tub that night and caught a cold.

He woke up the next morning and got himself cleaned up, turning on the shower to clear the murky red water in the bottom of the tub. He stepped out, brushing his teeth and fluffing his hair, getting dressed to head to the bookstore once more, hoping to see a certain brunette.

Months passed by, and he and Mark began to spend lots of time together. They'd go to dinner, to movies, and sometimes just meet up at the bookstore and have coffee. Mark would always ask him about his day, his life, his world as if it was the most important thing in the universe, but Jack never felt inclined to tell him. He never wanted to lose Mark. He loved Mark. The closer he got to this realization, the worse off his depression got. Sometimes he spend hours in the tub, violently slicing into his arms and legs in rage, wanting nothing but to feel numb again. Mark would ask him how he's been feeling each time they met, and Jack would lie every time.

One day, as he was reading the novel he had picked up the day he met Mark, a dark cloud loomed over him. He sighed, his final thread of pride shattered into pieces. He latched onto the pages, tears falling from his eyes as he leaned over to his nightstand and grabbed a pen and paper. He took one last look at the title of the book, and he knew what he had to do. He scrawled out in messy handwriting his thoughts and feelings  for the only person he thought would care. He told him about the first time they met, and all the things he did in between. He spared him the gory details about the scars, but always reminded him about memories they shared. He voiced questions he knew he would never get to ask Mark, things that he'd been to scared to ask all along. Most importantly, he wanted to let Mark know how much he meant to him. He never wanted Mark to blame himself for Jack's failure. He never wanted Mark to get involved to begin with. With a heavy sigh, he folded the letter in half, sealing it behind the title of the book he planned to give Mark the next day. He curled up under his covers then, letting the deafening sounds of his own sobs fill the lonely air around him.  
  
  
The next day, Mark and Jack met up at the park. Mark wanted to take his dog, Chica, for a walk and had invited Jack along with him. As they sat under a tall tree, watching the retriever run around happy in the grass, Jack opened his satchel and pulled out a square package wrapped in brown paper.  
  
  
"What's this?" Mark said as Jack handed it to him, giving him a small smile. Jack would miss that smile more than anything else.  
  
  
"Just a gift, fer ye spendin' time wit me the past few months." Jack mused, passing off the gift to Mark. "Don't open it until ye get home though, i want ye to call me later." Mark beamed, and Jack could've cried right then. But he couldn't, he had to stay strong for the man he loved.  
  
"I'm sure I'll love it. I love you." Mark said, and Jack fought the tears building up behind his eyes. Soon the sun set, and the two parted ways with Mark promising to see him tomorrow. Jack only responded with a soft smile and a tight hug, knowing it was the last time he would get to hear those words again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got alot of requests for this, so there it was. If you know someone who's feeling this way, or you feel this way, please try to seek help. Suicide is never the answer. I love you <3


	3. Smeared Pages and Ripped Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****UPDATE***

Hey! Pixel/Moxie here! If you liked this fanfic, then theres an extended, 10 chapter version of it in this very series! It's part 20, and it's called Smeared Pages and Ripped Notes. Just an update to let you know that! Carry on!

**Author's Note:**

> Next Septiplier story will be up tuesday cause tomorrow is my birthday! I love you guys, and thanks for reading! Next prompt: "Mark and Jack read Septiplier fanfiction."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Smeared Pages and Ripped Notes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734126) by [thenewnationalanthem (moxielovesshipping)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxielovesshipping/pseuds/thenewnationalanthem)




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